Goat Among Sheep
by littleCentipede
Summary: My brothers... long has it been known that a traitor has been with us for many years. She left the ranks of our English brethren and conspired with the Assassins... She found the Sword, and bore only one line. We must find this line... and end it.
1. On the Road

"Apparently, we have a traitor among us."

Numerous gasps and hysterical 'what's filled the cramped space of the van as it raced down the lonely line of the Interstate. All eyes that could go to Shaun as he typed away on his laptop did. Rebecca stared at him in her position next to the Animus before she scrambled to get back to tending to it as Desmond deactivated his Memory Sequence and sat up from the red velvet. Rebecca shook her head, lips tightening as she shut off the animus. Lucy was in the front of the van, driving.

"What do you mean traitor, Shaun?" the blond woman questioned, eyes narrowing as she continued to follow the road north. She was on the lookout for a particular exit. The other three were crammed in the back, but Shaun unseated himself and squeezed his way to the passenger seat up front. He set the drives originally in the seat on the floor before sitting himself awkwardly and slipped on the seat belt, laptop resting on his thighs.

"Not exactly a traitor, per se, at least not against us. I did a little search through Desmond's files from when you two were still with Abstergo. It seems that there are some tidbits you might have missed. It's quite intriguing really," Shaun glanced up briefly from his laptop, "Take this next Exit. There's a gas station not far off the road--I can show you there right quick while we fill up the tank."

"That's a risky move, Shaun. It'll have to be quick," Lucy sighed as she signaled upon the coming exit and wandered to the right and slowing down as they came upon a light and a fork in the road. "It won't take a few seconds. All of you should see this. I don't think it can wait, quite honestly. There might be something we can reap from this after all." Shaun began typing furiously, searching through one of the Templar databases ripped from one of Abstergo's stolen files, courtesy of Rebecca. "I'll do some quick searches on this woman... see if maybe she has a descendant..."

"Woman? What woman? Is it Maria?" Desmond turned in his position on the Animus next to Rebecca. He hadn't met any women other than Maria during his time with Altair, except the few beggars in the streets that at first asked for coin he didn't have, then assaulted him with rocks once he took to the rooftops. He had felt awful for them, yet began to loathe them overtime.

"No, no," Shaun shook his head, voice quiet and trailing off, "...A crusader? Very interesting indeed. Abstergo doesn't have much on her, but she has an entry at the very least and a brief history leading up to the events of the nine's assassinations. But it doesn't go much further than that..."

"Ooh, let me see!" Rebecca stood as best she could, hunched over and looking over Shaun's shoulder at his laptop screen. "What's the file number? Maybe I can find something in Subject 16's Memory Core!" She cheerfully sat back down, opening up her laptop as well. Desmond glanced between the two of them.

"File Code 309134538," Shaun relayed.

As Rebecca and Shaun made their searches, Lucy pulled the van up into the gas station. It was old and rinky-dink, but had cheap prices, which lightened Lucy's spirit, if only a little. As Lucy got out to fill up the van, Desmond slid himself off the Animus and opened one of the van's back doors, getting out and stretching his legs, "Ah!"

Lucy looked over at Desmond as she prepped the nozzle and smiled at him, "Desmond." The man looked over at her as he stretched out a bit and popped his knuckles. She nodded her head to bring him over, and he followed her lead. "How are you?" she asked.

"Uh--I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Desmond replied, smiling back.

"Just... long drive. All these things that are happening... It's scary. What if they're waiting for us there? They shouldn't be, it's left in secrecy. Our base was practically out in the open. Just, all this... You know?" Her smile faded as she looked back at the small screen that displayed rising gallon and price numbers.

"I know what you mean. But don't worry. Things will be alright. Weren't you there when you beat up all of Vidic's guys? We'll be fine," he said, trying to assure her. In reality, he was frightened too. But from what he learned from being with Altair and Ezio, it was that acting upon fears brought nothing. "It's... it's okay to be scared. We just can't let that impede us," Desmond said, scooting his shoe a little.

Lucy looked up at Desmond, surprised at his words. She shouldn't have been, really, now that she thought about it, eyes glancing own at nothing in particular. She looked back up at him with a smile, "Thanks, Desmond."

"Excuse me, but are you two finished? I has us stop for a reason!" Shaun called from the van before he got out as well, followed by Rebecca. He set his laptop down on the hood of the van as everyone else crowded around him, "Look. Here."

He displayed a moving file of Altair, running along the rooftops of Acre. The city's alarm had gone off, and Altair was fleeing the scene of his crime against the Teutonic Order. Behind him was a woman, facing the docks with a bow and arrow at the ready. She didn't seem to be turning to follow or attack him.

"Who is that?" Lucy squinted her eyes.

"I don't remember seeing her... at all," Desmond shook his head before looking back at the screen.

Shaun glanced at the other man, brows furrowed, though not through complete annoyance, "There are plenty of reasons for not quite remembering, Desmond. Perhaps the Memory Sequences you activated at Abstergo did not include her, and in this instance, you were in such a hurry to get away that you completely missed her."

"I don't remember seeing her either," Lucy said as she studied the screen.

"How long did the periods of these events last? It could have been months at the very least. Don't forget we just saw 23 years of Ezio's life," Shaun said quietly. "But we don't know anything from this one file. All we can do right now is assume. Look at the way she has her back turned to Altair. It's as if she's... No..."

"Subject 16 doesn't say anything about her, except that he mentions a numberless captive of the Templars. A prisoner, not like Lucy and Desmond and Subject 16, but like a criminal-type prisoner..." Rebecca piped.

"This doesn't seem right," Shaun said, "There is no indication that she was ever a Templar."

"Let's get going. I'll go in and pay so we can get out of here. Rebecca, see if you can find some sort of number or code or something--anything, for this prisoner." Lucy said as she removed the gas nozzle from the van after it clicked. She headed inside as the other three scrambled back into the van.

Lucy made it quick to go in, grab some food and drinks, pay and get out to the van. The clerk paid little comment to her, and had the goods stuffed into a couple of sacks. Lucy set the bags between the two front seats, but not out of reach of Rebecca and Desmond. "How much longer until we get there?" Desmond asked as he sat back onto the Animus, more for sitting purposes rather than getting back to Ezio.

"Still a ways, but we can use this time to look up on this traitor and hopefully recover the whereabouts of her descendant... if they're still alive. If Subject 16 mentioned this prisoner, then they could already be dead," Lucy said as she fastened her seat belt and started the van, "I got food and drinks here if anyone needs it."

"Alright!" Rebecca grabbed a bottle and opened it, balancing her laptop in her lap as she took a drink. As she screwed the cap back on and set it down on her feet, she studied the screen, listening to dialogue and reading notes, searching for some sort of code, or anything else that would give some kind of clue to this prisoner. "...It looks like the Templars kept this person in what used to be an old warehouse. But there was a fire and the Templars abandoned it. No word on the prisoner though... Probably died in the fire."

"Well that's helpful," Shaun sighed.

"Wait, wait. The warehouse is off on an old road along our route. Maybe we can check it out, just in case?" Rebecca looked over at Lucy.

Lucy sighed, not wanting to take another damn detour for someone who might not even be alive anymore.

"I don't see any reason why the Templars would be there anymore, or choose to return. It's probably less energy draining for them to just create a new base somewhere more convenient than to repair and renovate an older one. Let's take a look anyway. we could probably find something useful, person or otherwise." Shaun nodded.

Lucy was silent for a while glaring hard at the road ahead of her. She had just gotten back on the interstate and she didn't want to get off again. She gave a deep sigh before giving in, "Fine. We'll go check this out. But that's it. No more sidetracks or distractions. Got it?"

"No worries," Shaun said.

"Which exit is it Rebecca?" Lucy asked.

"Um... Exit 493. Should be a little ways ahead. But the road isn't too long. The warehouse isn't all that secluded," the other girl said.

"And if I recall, that area isn't too populated either. Seems a little too convenient," Shaun muttered.

"For both parties at least," Lucy said, "Let's just relax a bit until we get there."

"Let us know when you need to switch out, Lucy. You've been driving us for a while. If you need a break just give us the word," Desmond piped from the back. Lucy smiled as she kept driving, "No problem."


	2. The Prisoner

It was around midnight when Lucy was finally able to signal and navigate the van into the furthest lane that took her to the intended Exit 493. Desmond and Shaun were both asleep, but Rebecca remained awake, having allowed Shaun to move to the back to rest while she moved up front to assist Lucy in finding this abandoned Templar warehouse. "I wonder what we'll find there," Rebecca murmured quietly.

"Hopefully nothing that will put us all in danger. After we're finished with this building, we're out and not stopping for anything else other than gas and supplies," Lucy said with a light shake of her head. "We're already desperate for time, any more sidetracks like this and we could be looking at a lot of hurt coming our way."

"I get ya," Rebecca said as she looked over her laptop. "...There's nothing on this prisoner in the Templar files. Just a name. And a picture."

"What's her name?" Lucy glanced at her briefly as she turned onto the old road said to housing the warehouse.

"Lauren. She's actually really pretty. Doesn't look happy though."

"I can't imagine she'd be very cheery..." Lucy said as she dimmed down her headlights, her own voice going quiet as the warehouse came into view. The building was concrete, plain in its rectangular box-like design with windows broken and boarded over. It certainly looked abandoned, the grassy yards that surrounded it were brown and dead.

"Wait, look," Rebecca whispered, pointing up to a window at the farthest end of the building. It glowed faintly between boards of wood in a soft warm light. Lucy slowed down the van, glancing between Rebecca and the window. "...Someone's there," she said quietly, "...Who could it be?"

"I doubt it'd be the Templars... but we can't be too careful..." Rebecca said as she closed her laptop.

Lucy pulled the van into a vacant area next to the building before shutting it off. Reaching back, she woke up Desmond and Shaun with light shakes. "Guys, get up," Lucy whispered, "We're here."

Desmond woke with a grunt, rubbing his face before sitting up and grabbing his blade and bracer, clapping it onto his forearm. Shaun took in a deep breath when he awoke, arching his back to stretch before taking a drink from a bottle of water from the sack Lucy brought from the gas station.

"Alright, what do you want us to do?" Shaun looked over at Lucy.

The blond undid her seat belt, "Desmond and I are going in. Rebecca, you can come with if you want. Shaun, I want you to keep up these files and keep in contact with me." Reaching down, Lucy picked up a pair of headsets. "The frequency is already set. Just push the button on this side to talk," she handed Shaun one of the black headsets, the side that held out the mic displaying an all-too-obvious green button.

Shaun took the headset and slipped it over his head, adjusting it over his ears and positioning the mic above his lips. He adjusted the volume as Lucy slid her headset on as well.

"Can you hear me?" Shaun whispered into the mic as he pressed the button. Lucy gave him a brief nod, before performing the same test and changing her volume when Shaun flinched to the blaring in his ears. "Sorry about that, better now?"

Shaun nodded, feigning a smile. Lucy chuckled quietly, "Okay, Rebecca, you coming?"

"Yeah. Figured you guys could use the back-up just in case," the other girl nodded.

"Alright. Shaun. Should anything happen, I'll notify you. But when that happens, I want you to start the van up. I'll let you know our location should it come to that so you can get to us quickly," Lucy said. "Alright guys, let's move out."

As the other three got out of the van, Shaun moved up to the driver's seat, opening up his laptop and dimming the light of his monitor. "I'll let you know any other information about this prisoner if I find it," Shaun spoke through the headset as the group ran towards one of the entrances of the warehouse.

"_Rebecca found a picture and a name, you can go ahead and upload it to your database and go from there_."

"Alright. I'll see if I can find the floor plans of this building as well. Consult me should you get lost and I'll try to guide you as best I can."

Desmond looked around as they approached the warehouse. Lucy had picked up a metal rod as a weapon, and Rebecca an old rusty crowbar. Lucy made a glance at Desmond, "We'll back you up should we meet with any trouble."

Desmond nodded, "Yeah. No worries."

The most obvious entrances of the warehouse were boarded up, the hinges and locks broken or burnt, or even melted and fused together, providing difficulty to open them even with their resources. Desmond pointed up to a window near the top of the building, glass broken in but not boarded up. Lucy gave a nod and Desmond headed up. Rebecca followed him, slipping her crowbar through two belt loops of her jeans. Lucy headed towards the lit window, creeping down and quietly crawling over the grass. She crouched beneath the glowing window, taking a deep breath before raising her head and peeking her eye through two boards.

"_What do you see_?"

"...A wall and a light... not too much... I hear something going... But I can't tell what it is..."

"_Lucky for us, I found some floor plans in the Templar database. It's rather old but I doubt they made any real changes to the building since this supposed fire. The room you're looking into seems to be a very small lounging area_."

"What about the top floor?"

"_...Top floor...? Since when did warehouses have more than one floor_?"

"There's a window up top."

"_That looks to be a vent. Desmond and Rebecca will have to navigate through the venting system. Should be alright though_."

"A vent? What about the glass?"

"_Who knows. It's not like the Templars used this building as an actual warehouse. Perhaps they sealed it up_."

"I wonder why..." Lucy sighed as she crept to another line between the boards.

Desmond and Rebecca slipped into the vent, Desmond going first with a quick curse.

"What?" Rebecca looked up at him.

"Looks like we have some slithering around to do... Got a flashlight?" Desmond looked back at her.

"Um... I have my phone," Rebecca handed her phone up to him, "Battery's a little low though."

Desmond took the phone and opened it up. Turning it on, he pointed it in direction of the venting tunnels, lighting the way. "Alright. Come on," he said as he crawled forward, leading her through. They made twists and turns, avoiding stilled fans and dropping when the tunnels dropped. "I think we're getting somewhere," Desmond piped as they came upon a fork, divided by a fan.

Rebecca blew a strand of hair from her face, "I wish we had a headset too. It'd be nice to know how far we are through these tunnels. I'm getting claustrophobic."

"Hold up," Desmond crawled forward and squeezed himself around, facing her. Between them was a vented square, showing view of the warehouse below. "Hey!" Rebecca peeked through the small thin beams, "Maybe we can get down this way."

"Hand me your crowbar," Desmond reached a hand forward, beckoning the rusty metal. Rebecca struggled to slide the crowbar out of her belt loops, but she handed it to him when she did. With careful precision, Desmond bent and pried the vent, careful not to let it crash to the ground. Beneath them, there were old boxes of cargo and big-rig trailers. "Aw, perfect," Desmond smiled before looking back up at Rebecca, "I'll go first. I'll let you know if there are any Templars below. I'll give you the signal when it's safe to come."

Rebecca nodded, biting her lip as Desmond turned his feet in to go down the opening. He dropped onto a stack of crates, holding out his arms and gasping as he fought for balance. "Aye-ay..." Desmond hissed before breathing a sigh of relief, the stack stabilizing. Desmond looked around, eyes squinting. He bit his lip, head aching as his vision changed, all whites going black and his ears filling up as if they were being clogged. Squinting his eyes, he looked around, searching for red auras. there was nothing, just boxes, cargo, and a door.

In fact, everything he saw seemed intact. "Okay, Rebecca. It's safe to come down," he said quietly as he lowered himself down to a couple boxes. Turning around, he rose his hand to help her down. She took his hand with a smile before jumping down the rest of the way. When they were both on the ground, Rebecca put her hands on her hips, "I thought there was a fire here?"

"Yeah... everything looks okay though, like there wasn't a fire to begin with. I wonder where Lucy went," Desmond said quietly. "There's a door over here. Let's go see what's behind it."

"Right," Rebecca nodded, following him.

Outside, Lucy was scoping the windows, looking inside. When she heard a rustling on the door handle within, she froze. "I hear something," she whispered into the mic on her headset.

"_Stay low_."

"Roger... Wait.. Someone's coming."

Inside, the door opened. It was Desmond and Rebecca, looking inside with weapons at the ready. Giving a sigh of relief, Lucy knocked on the wood, alerting her fellow assassins. Rebecca went to the window while Desmond went to search throughout the room. With her crowbar, Rebecca busted through the wooden boards. "Hey," she smiled at her friend, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

"Search the area. There has to be someone here," Lucy said immediately as she climbed inside. The lounge they were in was empty, save for a couch, a small television sitting on a box, a radio sitting on another box, and a lamp. It felt somewhat cozy, but it felt too done-up. Someone was here. There had to be. The lamp was already on and so was the television, despite the image being white noise.

"Desmond is already at it," Rebecca nodded.

"Ah... Lucy? Come here please," Desmond piped from a room adjacent to the lounge.

"What is it? Desmond?" Lucy called back, walking into the other room--a break room done up like a kitchen--with Desmond standing with his hands in the air. In front of him stood a woman, a young woman, about their age, with light blond hair, with a gun pointing at Desmond's face.

"Don't come any closer," she growled, eyes narrowed down and body tense, "I'm not afraid to fucking blow your face off." She was wearing a white tanktop and jeans, as well as worn sneakers. Her hair was a little ratty, noticeably tangled and what visible parts of her skin dirtied.

"Wait," Lucy said softly, slowing to a stop when she saw the gun, "Please..."

"You think you can just take me away and put me into that.. that thing? Well not anymore. I'm not taking it. You'll have to just find somebody else to put into that machine," the woman said, backing away.

Rebecca bit her lip in shock, looking the girl over. She said softly to Lucy, quiet enough to keep from scaring the woman, but loud enough for her to still hear her, "Machines... They must have put her into an animus. Looks like they might have forced her and kept her in for too long... Look at the marks on her face and arms."

There were dark bands across her wrists, biceps and forehead.

"What!?" the girl pointed the gun at Rebecca, who shot up her hands at the sight of the weapon.

"Wait, please. Calm down, we're not here to hurt you..." Lucy said quietly, "Is... Is your name Lauren?"

Desmond glanced at Lucy, gritting his teeth behind his lips.

"...Who wants to know?" the girl said, her arms relaxing, but still holding up the gun.

"My name is Lucy," Lucy said, still holding up her hands like the others, "This is Desmond and Rebecca. Can you tell us why you're here?" She spoke in a soft, coaxing voice, hoping to calm the girl down and gain her trust. She looked so worn... so dirty. She might have smelled too. Lucy could only conclude that she had been here for a while.

"...I live here now... I was taken away from my home and brought here... By these men in suits... They... they put me on this table thing... They called it an.. Animus... They made me see these images... I felt so sick. I couldn't concentrate, but they kept making me try to focus. But I couldn't... I couldn't at all," the woman lowered the gun.

Desmond lowered his hands, "Hey... I know how that is. They did it to me too, and countless others."

The girl looked up at Desmond, "...They.. Who are they? What do they want from me?"

"That's what we'd like to find out," Lucy said, taking a step forward, "Here. Come with us. We'll explain everything to you when we get out on the road. I know we're moving a little fast, but the people who are after you... they could be on our trail right now. And we need to get out of here quickly."

"No," the girl shook her head, holding the gun back up at Lucy, "Tell me who they are and who you are. For all I know, you guys could be part of them."

Lucy stopped, but held her ground, "Those men you talked about are Templars. They are our enemies. We, all three of us, are Assassins. We are part of the Assassin Order, an organization in charge of protecting the state of mankind, whereas the Templars seek to gain control of everything. They're after us, and we need to know why they're after you. Lauren, please... we need you to come with us."

Lauren stared at Lucy, slowly lowering the gun, "...Alright."

Lucy smiled and nodded, "Great. Come with us. We're on our way to a secret cabin up North. We'll explain everything to you on our way there, alright? You have nothing to fear." She reached a hand up to her shoulder, "We're on your side."

Lauren nodded, eyes on the ground. She glanced briefly back up at Lucy, then Desmond and Rebecca. "...Okay."

Lucy took Lauren's hand and tugged her gently in the direction of the exit, followed by the other two Assassins. "...Do you know of an exit around here?"

Lauren nodded, walking away from Lucy to a red lever on a wall near a line of what looked like garage doors. There was a lever between each door, but she only pulled the one out and pushing it down with both hands. The garage door growled and rumbled, meant for deliveries and stocking for big rig trailers, and slowly crawled upward and open.

Outside, Shaun started the van, seeing the door open. "Everything alright?" he piped into the mic.

Lucy, back in the warehouse, smiled as she pressed the button to reply, "Yes. We have what we came for. Pull up so you can pick us up."

"_Roger_."

The four walked outside. Lauren rose an arm up at the light beams of the van, "Ah..."

Rebecca put her hand on Lauren's shoulder, "I just wanna let you know, Lauren, we have an Animus too."

Lauren's head whipped around, staring at Rebecca, "I thought you weren't one of them!"

"We're not! Don't worry, our Animus is ten thousand times better than their cold pieces of junk. Trust me, it's comfy as a couch!" She laughed.

Lauren looked over at Desmond, who in turn smiled reassuringly, "It's true. It's pretty damn comfortable. I slept on it on our way here."

"Come on guys, we gotta get out of here as soon as we can. Lauren, you can sit up in the front, alright?" Lucy looked over at them as Shaun brought the van up.

"Alright..." Lauren shivered from the cold of the night as she crept up to the van.

Shaun stared at her, face dumbfounded at the sight of her. She got into the front seat, as the other three climbed into the back and shut the doors. Lauren stared at him, this strange man with glasses and typical haircut. "Um... I'm Lauren," she introduced herself, voice quivering slightly, nervous and cold.

"I'm Shaun," he said quietly, "...Nice to meet you." Lauren secured her seat belt as the other three settled in the back.

"Alright Shaun, get us out of here," Lucy said quietly.

Rebecca rubbed Lucy's shoulder, "Go to sleep babe. We can explain to Lauren here what's going on. We'll fill you in whenever you wake up, okay?"

"Alright," Lucy nodded, laying back on the Animus. Desmond was curled up next to it, opposite of Rebecca, who sat on a crate, with his back against Shaun's seat. Rebecca relaxed in her seat, and Lauren curled up while Shaun turned on the heat. He turned the van around and got back onto the road, heading for the on ramp to the Interstate.

"Alright, where do we start..." Rebecca sighed as she tilted her head back. Lauren laid her head against the window, listening to Rebecca as she went on a lighthearted tangent about the ongoing war between the Templars and the Assassins.


	3. Into the Animus

Lauren was in the bathtub the next morning, scrubbing herself vigorously. The water she sat in darkened with dirt, and she was forced to leave the drain unplugged to filter it out. Her hair was matted against her face and neck, washed and brushed out with a comb, almost white under the light above her. Scrubbing the lather over her skin to remove the months of grime and dirt, she contempated what she had heard on the long ride to the cabin. A war between two groups, the Templars and the Assassins, was taking place after starting over a thousand years ago. The Assassin's sought to protect mankind, while the Templars were hellbent on controlling it.

They planned on accomplishing this through the use of Pieces of Eden, ancient artifacts that were created--according to their findings--by a group of beings known as Those Who Came Before. It all sounded ridiculous to Lauren, but Shaun promised to show her their database and findings and archives the next morning. They also wanted her story, but figured it would be best to have everyone rest once they got there, and hear it in the morning as well. She wasn't quite sure to think of it all, still, even after all she had heard, from all three of the assassin's accounts--whereas Lucy was asleep, she figured she'd get her account too.

She sighed softly as she got herself all cleaned and got out of the bathtub. She dried off, staring at herself in the mirror. Raising one of the white towels, she rubbed it against the side of her face, relishing in the soft fabric on her skin. As the dirty water flowed down the drain, Lauren looked from the mirror, grabbing spare clothing offered by Rebecca and Lucy: a black top and baggie khaki pants. She went barefoot, rubbing the towel against the back of her head, freshly cut with a pair of scissors, leaving the bathroom to join the others. The cabin itself was small, fitted with pets, provisions, and outlets for their computers and the Animus.

Desmond was sitting on the Animus. He looked over at Lauren and waved her over, "Come sit here." Lucy and and Rebecca sat on the floor while Shaun sat in a wheeled chair, in a circle with laptops open and plugged in. Shaun watched Lauren, unknowing of his own staring until she glanced at him, causing him to look away and blush a little out of embarrassment. He cleared his throat as Rebecca offered Lauren a plate of hot eggs and a smile.

Lauren smiled back, still uneasy, but grateful for the decent food. "So, Lauren? Can you explain to us your situation with the Templars? Why were you in that warehouse and for how long?" Lucy looked up at her, setting her laptop aside. Rebecca did the same, but Shaun kept his fingers at the keys, ready to type in Lauren's story as she told it to fill out his database.

Lauren studied Lucy quietly before looking down at her bare toes, "...I didn't have much of a family growing up. My mom was distant, my dad was nowhere to be found, and I was moved from home to home almost all my life. One thing I remember my mom telling me was to stay low and tell nobody my real name... She told me to alter my appearance as much as possible and banned me from climbing trees...

"I was maybe eight or nine years old when I was removed from her. It was her decision, and she told me to stay strong, both in mind and body. She told me that I needed to see through the lies and the deceptions, that nothing was true and everything was permitted. I didn't know what she meant...

"I was moved from home to home... mostly fosters. I was never allowed to be adopted. I was labeled a problem child so that nobody would take me... It all went on until I was moved to a boarding house for young adults. It was kind of like a foster home for adults but not really... we all had our jobs and classes and such... It was nice not to be moving from home to home... but then, these men came and killed most of the people that ran the house... they took me prisoner, covering my head with a bag... They told me that I had been running for too long and that now I couldn't escape. They were going to get the answers they wanted from me one way or another... I had no idea what they were talking about.

"When they uncovered my head, we were at that warehouse... I was strapped down to this machine... I had never seen or heard of such a thing before, but I recognized the logo. It was Abstergo... The same Abstergo companies helped the boarding house owners I lived at with medication and technologies, and even linked them with appropriate and cheap insurances to help the adults that lived there. I couldn't understand why they did what they did... I was frightened... And I didn't know what to do.

"They called it an Animus... a gift given to them to reveal stories like mine for answers they seek for the world they were creating... or something... They turned it on... and I got this horrible headache. I felt sick. It felt like... they were peeking into my brain with a probe or something... There was this buzzing feeling, like you get when you get really really pissed, right? I saw these images... like dreams almost. Or distant memories... I couldn't make much of it out... it was all blurry and I felt too dizzy to concentrate. They kept me in the Animus for so long... I got so sick. One of them urged the others to let me out. When they did, I threw up all over the place...

"I remember they locked me up in a small room with little more than a cot, blankets and a small lamp. They brought me out once a day for food and to be put back on the Animus... they pushed me harder each time... but I didn't give them the results they wanted... They did this every day for I don't know how long... I lost track of the days. But I remember when they left, the warehouse caught fire... I was stuck in a room the whole time... When I got out, the fire had eaten away almost everything inside.

"I was protected because of the walls... they were made of concrete and had some type of fireproof backing... Or at least I would guess... they were burned but it wasn't like wood or anything... I tried to put the fire out any way I could, what was left of it. I didn't see any more of those men, so I assume they just left and left me for dead. Typical of them, I guess...

"I just stayed there when they left... I was afraid they'd find me. That and the place had reserves and such... pretty convenient, you know...? I straightened the place up too, the smell of burnt stuffs was giving me headaches."

"What a story," Rebecca sighed, rubbing her fingertips against her arm, looking up at Lauren.

"That's incredible," Lucy shook her head, "We need to see why they were after you."

Lauren fidgeted, not liking the sound of that, "...In the Animus?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, we can give you the crash course so you know how to handle yourself when you're in a stable memory," Rebecca stood up, "It's a piece of cake! We won't force you to do anything you don't want or we wouldn't do. We'll ease you in and bring you out whenever you'd like or if we think it's necessary."

Lauren still looked skeptical, pressing her lips together and looking from Rebecca to Lucy. Lucy looked up at her sadly, "We know what the Templars are capable of. They put Desmond... and.. other subjects before him through the same thing, if not worse. We want you to be as comfortable with this as possible, but we do need to get you into the animus as soon as we can so we can see what all the ruckus is about."

"It'll be alright," Desmond patted Lauren's shoulder, "It's actually quite fun once you get the hang of it."

Lauren looked between all of them, though Shaun was silent, typing furiously in his database, and was quiet for a moment. Awkwardly, she ran her hand through her hair and sighed softly, "...Alright... I'll give it a go..."

Lucy smiled and stood, walking up to Lauren was Rebecca whooped in elation. She held out a hand to the other girl, "Don't worry. We'll keep you safe, okay? We're on the same side. It may be very strange at first... but... all we can do is ask you to trust us. I know it's a stretch, but... we would never lie like that to you. Okay?"

Lauren took Lucy's hand and stood, smiling meekly at her, "Okay..."

"Would you like to try the Animus now?"

"Uhm... ..Sure. It's now or never."

Lauren laid herself down on the Animus 2.0, looking around nervously. Lucy sat next to her, offering a hand to hold, which Lauren accepted graciously. Rebecca stuck her arm as she did Desmond, enticing a light yelp, to which she replied with a chuckle and a "Sorry! Little sting. Drawing some blood for the DNA scanner."

"Okay..." Lauren shook her head before resting back. Her vision blurred slightly and she took a deep breath, recovering from losing her composure.

"Relax, we'll put you through the tutorial when it starts," Rebecca said as she sat back down.

"Alright," Lauren laid her head back as a thin screen curved over her eyes.

"What's going to happen, Lauren, is you'll be put into a virtual space. The controls for bodily movements are kinda strange... but you'll get used to them," Rebecca said.

Lauren opened her eyes, seeing a space of blue with glints of white. She looked around her, standing upon the formless pace around her. She was in her clothes, her regular clothes, "This is strange..."

"Kinda cool, isn't it? Okay, try walking," Rebecca said from the side, her voice almost coming out of nowhere in the virtual realm.

"Alright.."

Lauren at first struggled with movement, but over the course of a half-hour and with plenty of guidance from both Rebecca and Desmond, Lauren was able to move around easily.

"I think I've found a stable memory," Lucy said, sitting next to Shaun. "It's a bit early, though... Let's activate it and see where it takes us. Ready Lauren?"

"Yeah," Lauren said, a little more relaxed in the Animus.

"Alright, let's do this!" Rebecca chirped.

Lauren took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as the realm around her began to break apart and fade into white.


	4. The Crusader

The Eastern sun shown brightly over the otherwise greying port city of Acre, the very faint breeze carrying with it the chatter of citizens, calls of merchants, crying of beggars and the lapping of the ocean waters against the laying boats and posts of the piers they were tied to. The rooftops were quiet, bored archers pacing back and forth over their posts with their arms crossed over their chests and hoods shielding their eyes from the glaring light from above. Soldiers of the three alliance'd powers stood guard at every corner, marching in lines on patrol and even bullying a citizen or two for the sheer fun of it. Business as usual, though a new threat, aside from the Saladin and his Seracen army, had risen his white-hooded head, only to be seen in glimpses when he _wasn't_ assassinating someone. The good doctor Garnier had been felled, and the Hospitalier knights were forced to bring a temporary into leadership before someone more qualified could be brought onto the stage. William of Monferrat had been fussing about in the fort resting at the southern edge of town at the news of Richard's departure for Arsuf in the following week. Sibrand had been fussing too, most of it falling on the ears of his captain, who mostly kept to surveying the streets of the Middle District.

She had nothing to report from day to day, the assassin hadn't really been showing up in her area or causing any noticeable trouble that would force the guards and knights in the Poor District to call for her and her archers stationed with her to assist them. The damage had already been done and the assassin had disappeared as soon as he had struck down his target. She was sure to keep her eyes open in search of him, however, with mixed feelings about this supposed 'angel of death'. Curiosity, fear, added with the obligation her status provided to the people and her men, made her wish to catch even the slightest glimpse of him. She wasn't concerned about following him; her athleticism was really one of the only few reasons why she was made captain of the Teutonic archers under Sibrand's guidance. Her agility and dexterity made it difficult for criminals to escape her, though her physical prowess left a lot to be desired. She would allow her archers to take care of hand-to-hand combat.

The morning in Acre wasn't anything unusual. Sibrand, however, was out and about, looking for his captain. Looking for Mary. It was to encourage an increase in her vigilence, the assassin had taken out one of his brothers-though unbeknownst to Mary-and it was necessary that this man be stopped should he be seen again. Make rounds in the other districts, arrest any who look even slightly suspicious. Mary figured Sibrand was only being a little outlandish, but she did as he asked. Or told, rather. Once the man was gone, Mary was back on her feet, bow strapped to her back with quiver of arrows, and a small sword hilted to the belt around her waist. Her outfit was like any other archer's of the area, though she was identified by the size of her bow and the darkened hood--apart from the rest of her doublet--that she chose not to drape over her head. Her hair was shoulder length, cut by her own blade when it got too long, and graced her light skin with a dark auburn hue. She lifted her gaze up to the sky, raising a gauntlet-clad hand to shield her eyes from the harsh rays of the sun. It was time to move out, at least for her, under Sibrand's order. Her boots scooted slightly over the shingles of the rooftop, pivoting before setting off at a light jog, jumping over gaps between buildings and climbing up to higher roofs. The citizens payed her no mind. She was one of the guards after all.

Leaving her post first had her a tad concerned. There were quite a few scoundrels wandering the streets in Acre, but she was sure that the soldiers on the ground level would be able to handle them. They usually did, with their advanced combativeness. Mary always had it for the guards down below, mainly those that spoke in that silver language of their French homeland. It sent shivers down her spine, but she was careful to keep herself together when around them. It was already taboo for her to be part of the crusader army, and a few of her fellow Englishmen were against it, and found it difficult to show her respect. Sibrand guarded her with a fierceness that was feared, with the addition of sharp lashings of his German tongue. She admired him for it, though felt awkward at times when his defense wasn't necessary. She wasn't a helpless little girl, at least not anymore.

"Captain!" one of her archers called to her as she skipped over the roofing, "We have trouble!"

Mary skidded to a stop, surprised at the sudden cry for help. Looking to the hooded archer, "What is it?"

"Two barbarians are taunting some soldiers. What should we do?" He jumped towards her. It was Conrad, an archer most beloved to Mary, "Keep watch. Those men know how to stay a blade but with the way those heathens act it may escalate. Take me to it, but do so quietly."

"Ma'am!" he saluted, "This way!"

Mary followed Conrad over the rooftops. He stopped and rose his arm to signal her to a stoop behind him. "Down there."

Below was a group of soldiers standing side by side, arms crossed tightly and loosely, with a few burly thugs shouting at them and taunting them to fight. Surrounding them was a group of curious citizens and monks, whispering amongst each other, both amused and worried. Mary stood, drawing her bow and an arrow and readying them in case anything should happened. Derogatives flew, but the soldiers stayed their blades, the struggling will to keep violence to a minimum showing on their faces. The French soldiers had their faces mostly covered. The Englishmen were starting to lose their cool, having less patience than their French and German counterparts. As hateful words escalated to shoves, a German elite stepped up from around a corner, shouting at both sides and forcing them to back off. Mary let out a soft, relieved sigh. The helmetted man stood between the two groups, throwing his arms as he berated and reprimanded both of them.

"Hmmm..." Conrad watched, glancing between the elite an Mary, "Looks like he has this covered."

"Don't count on it," Mary said softly, "Just keep watch. Something could still happen until the bandits disperse." It was unlikely that an altercation could still erupt when the Elite made his appearance. He glanced up at Mary, who looked right back at him. He nodded his head towards one of the unruly men in the opposing group as he continued speaking to the two groups, his English wrought with a strong German accent. His subtle movement allowed her attention to drift to the intended people. She watched them closely, her grip on her longbow and arrow tightening. The German and the French warriors tended to hold a little more respect for her than the Englishmen did. She was glad for that at least. Most of them were above her.

The thug under her surveillance had a rock in his hand and looked more than willing to use it. Mary readied her bow, taking aim at his wrist, waiting for him to throw it as the sound of her bowstring groaning under the strain from being pulled back rung in her ears. He started to ready himself to toss it, hidden by the cover of the other men. She released the bow, the arrow striking the stone from his hand and grazing his palm. He cried out in surprise, blood seeping from a gash in his palm. The other men dispersed from him, also surprised by the sudden assault. The elite glanced up at her before going to arrest the wounded thug. Mary lowered her bow as others looked up at her and Conrad.

"Go back to your business, leave these trivialities. We are at war with a new threat rearing his ugly head. There is no place for your petty confrontations here!" she said, putting the final word on the matter. Soldiers went back to her posts, and the bandits left to the streets once again, while the German elite arrested the remaining man with the bleeding hand.

Conrad stood up and looked over at Mary, "These people are getting crazier by the day."

"They cannot stand the war anymore than we. They want it to end, but neither side has the courage to call a truce, nor the strength," Mary shook her head, "They think it weakness to call for peace, it seems..."

"No, I don't think that's it. At least not all of it. Everyone wants the war to be over. But I'm fairly sure that both Saladin and Good King Richard are just waiting for each other to call it first," he said.

"Perhaps... Well, until then, get back to your post. I'm going to the Poor District to check on the Hospitalier Knights," Mary said as she turned towards the intended district.

"Be careful," Conrad said, "...You never know when that Assassin will show up again."

"Don't worry," Mary smiled back at him over her shoulder, "I'll be fine."

_"Lauren? You alright? Do you need a break?"_

_"U-um..."_

_"Let's get you out. I can search over the memories farther than this."_

_"Okay."_

When the world of the Third Crusade disappeared in a field of blinding white, Lauren blinked her eyes as they went out of focus, and came back to see the ceiling of the cabin. "Whoa..." she rubbed her eyes with her wrist, "What was that?"

"That was Acre in Israel, during the time of the Third Crusade," Desmond piped in, sitting next to her. He smiled at her eagerly, nervousness tweaking at the corners of his mouth. It was strange. Her ancestor was a crusader. An enemy of his own.

"Mary is her name," Shaun announced quietly as he stopped clacking on his computer, "A Teutonic archer under the Templar Sibrand."

"Was she a Templar?" Lucy asked.

"Hard to say. There are no files for her in the Templar database, so she either wasn't or was and had all of her information destroyed and was erased from history," Shaun said.

"That would be one reason the Templars looked for Lauren... to rebuild those datafiles. Or create them for the first time," Rebecca chimed in.

"But if she wasn't, then why would they look for her?" Lucy mused.

"She was part of the crusaders and was a subordinate to Sibrand. All we can do is assume. But right now, we have to let Lauren rest before we can continue on with this story of hers," Shaun shook his head, "It's strange, confusing and very concerning. Perhaps she knew something or had a child with one of the Templars. Again, all we can do at this point is assume."

"I'm sorry..." Lauren said quietly, shame in her voice.

"Whoa, whoa," Desmond looked at her, "You have nothing to be sorry for. An enemy of the Templars is a friend of ours." He nudged her shoulder, "Don't worry, okay?"

"I just wish I knew why..." Lauren said quietly.

"We'll find out why," Lucy said, looking at Lauren, "Take a nap. We'll get you back into the Animus once you're ready and I have a more recent memory to activate."

"Alright," Lauren nodded. She was quiet for a second, drawing her legs up on the Animus, "Um.."

"Thanks... for not ..you know. Because Mary's a Crusader," Lauren looked down at her feet.

"Hey, you're not trying to kill us in a Templar rage, that's good enough for us," Desmond grinned at her.

Lauren laughed softly, glancing at him briefly before looking back at her toes.


	5. The Assassin

Just a few hours after leaving the Animus, Lauren was back in it again, a little more eager to go back in this time. She was curious about her ancestor, particularly interested in what set her apart from the others. Or at least what made her 'special' enough to have her descendant be hunted by the very people she once worked under. Rebecca uploaded the latest stable memory on her laptop, the others crowding around the monitor, just as eager as Lauren to see what was so special about this woman. In the hours that Lauren took to rest, Desmond got back in the Animus to recount Altair's memories and get used to the atmosphere of the Third Crusade once more, after seeing abou 23 years or so of Ezio's life in the Italian Renaissance. It was strange seeing the stone walls of Acre again.

Lucy was mystified by a female in the Crusader army. Openly so. Maria had been in disguised, but little was known about how open she was about her femininity. She wasn't accepted as a successor to Robert de Sable, so it was safe to say that the other Templars didn't want her. The crusaders seemed alright with Mary, to an extent at least. That also struck Lucy as strange. The only two _known_ women in the army had the same name. Perhaps it was coincidence? The names then were restricted and chosen for their meaning. Lucy tried not to read too much into it. She had more important things to worry about.

"The memory I'm uploading is the day before Altair goes for William. The other memories I found don't have much going on, so maybe this one will give better results," Rebecca said, looking at Lauren. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Lauren nodded.

"Alright," Rebecca said.

As Lauren's world shifted and changed once more, Lucy's voice came like an echo, a deity's voice over Lauren's head.

_"One thing we forgot to let you know about Lauren; when you go through Mary's memories, there are still chances that you can fail or get killed. If that happens though, don't worry. The file will correct itself and have you try again."_

_"Okay."_

Acre rose itself from the white and as she was before, Lauren was truly shocked by the beauty of it. Though the construction of the city quickly died as the drab greyness was quick to overshadow ever positive aspect of the town. Bodies from illness still lined the streets as soldiers stood posted on ground and roof. Mary was just as monotonously stationed, boredom plastered over her face. There had been no sighting of the assassin in Acre, but there had been reports of big names from Demascus and Jerusalem being struck down by a man in a white hood. He wasn't just targeting the crusaders, but the seracens as well. The seracen guards had been unsuccessful in apprehending him, which had Mary both relieved and uneasy. It wasn't embarrassing at least, that the enemy were having just as much trouble as the crusaders in capturing him, but it also meant that he was unstoppable.

William of Monferrat was brooding as usual in the Rich district. Richard was to move out tomorrow and power over Acre would fall to William, though it seemed that the two were on less than good terms. Mary found it strange that Richard would hold to his decision to allow William to cover for him while he was taking command at Arsuf, but it was the King's decision and she was more than willing to respect that. Conrad was on a roof near hers, as he usually was, hood down with his near-orange hair fluttering in the wind. He had a scar over his right eyebrow, which gave him a seasoned look despite having something of a 'pretty' face.

"Anything?" Mary looked over to her fellow archer and trusted friend.

"Nay," he shook his head, "Little more than a tan and a bird or two."

Mary chuckled. It was rare that soldiers within the city saw any action unless it was William berating his men. She sighed softly, looking down at her boots. She bent her knee, raising the back of her foot up behind her. Her arm reached back and grabbed at her ankle and pulled it closer to her backside. "I'm going to go make a quick round," she said, "Just to check for any trouble."

"Alright," Conrad nodded, "I'll hold your post then."

Mary gave a nod before hopping her way towards the Rich District. Things were calm, no reports from the archers stationed there, but Mary did catch a glimpse of white with bands of leather brown and black, dispersing from a group of scholars. Mary watched him as the figure in imperfect white slithered through the crowd, a snake through grass. She followed him, not alerting anyone else to the presence of this person; it could be just a militant scholar for all she knew. But men of God were forbidden to carry such weaponry, no? She followed him, her excitement rising in her chest. Could it be the assassin?

She watched from a couple rooftops away as he climbed up, her ears catching the faintest hints of whispering grunts that escaped his slightly parted lips.

_"Altair!"_

_"Who?"_

_"The Assassin. He's Desmond's ancestor."_

Mary's breath hitched as he stood up and looked around on the roof just across from hers. She bit back a peep as he turned towards her, thrusting herself into the roof garden she stood next to.

_"...I think I remember that. I was wondering what that was."_

The assassin spotted the sudden movement, standing still before his concentration was broken by shouting of another archer on the other side. He turned his head around towards the other archer, making the split second decision to turn and flee. Mary, hearing the shouting as the assassin turned to flee, jumped out of the roof garden, just in time for the man in white to smack right into her, knocking both of them over.

"Ah!" Mary cried in surprise as she felt the heavier person force her down. With him on top of her, and both in a daze, Mary shook her head before looking up at the face over hers. She caught his eyes, eyes that no man that fell to him ever saw. The man was looking back at her, eyes just as surprised as hers, wide, with his slightly darker face scratchy with stubble over his jawline and between his lip and nose. There was a scar just to left, where facial hair was absent.

With a grimace, the assassin leapt off of her, thrusting her further against the stone roof. "Agh!" Mary grunted as he got off of her, "Stop him!" Rolling herself up, Mary looked around for the assassin, spotting him in white hopping from roof to roof. He was gaining distance, and quickly. "Damn it," she hissed as she gave chase. She gave all her energy just to try and keep up with him, his swift movements rivaled by no man she had ever met. It was no wonder no body could stop him. Still, she followed as best she could, stumbling over obstacles the assassin practically flew over. "Stop! I command you to stop running!" she shouted after him.

He paid her no mind, only continued his sprint. Coming to a dead end, however, he slowed, reaching for a throwing knife, a subtle movement that Mary didn't see as she followed behind. Quickly, he turned, launching the knife. She stopped in her tracks, crying out as the silver blade pierced through her shoulder. She fell to her hands and knees, one hand going to cradle the growing spot of blood on her shoulder surrounding the knife embedded in her flesh. Gritting her teeth, she looked for him, catching him at a higher point, a tower.

Getting up, her legs wobbling, she gave chase again, whimpers flooding from her throat from the pain throbbing in her shoulder. "God give me strength," she choked back a yelp as she climbed the best she could. She was certainly slower, allowing the distance between the two to grow. "I said stop!" she shouted again. From where he was, he glanced back at her, as if he wasn't expecting her to still be following-let alone still alive. Then again, he didn't aim for a vital point.

Mary stopped, watching him as he climbed further and further. The other soldiers were in a scramble, looking for him on the streets and shouting at both him and each other, assuming he could hear them. Getting out her bow, Mary shuddered at the thought of what she was about to _attempt_. She pulled out an arrow, her shoulder raging with pain. Setting her bow and arrow up, she took aim at the assassin, whispering between gritting teeth and tightened lips, "Two can play your game, assassin..." With her injured arm shaking to hold the bow, her other pulled back the string, aiming up at the assassin. When her strength gave out, she released the bow with a painful cry, the arrow whizzing up and catching the assassin's sleeve, the arrow's head clacking against the bracer. He jerked in surprise, grunting as he struggled to hold on. He lost his balance and his grip, falling a few feet before catching himself.

In that time, Mary had gathered what strength she had and forced it into her legs, leaping towards the tower and climbing up after him, "Stop! Stop running from me! Face me like a man, assassin!"

The assassin glared down at her, shouting at her, "You are injured! Why do you keep giving chase?"

"Because it's my duty! Now stop and face me!" she jumped up a few ledges before grabbing onto his ankle with her good arm. The assassin gave a surprised yell, losing his grip once more before fighting to get it back. With a frustrated grunt, he kicked her off, sending her falling into a hay wagon below. In doing so, however, cost him his grip once again, and down he came, landing on top of her in the hay. The knife in Mary's shoulder jarred, causing her to shriek, even in fighting to grab a hold of the assassin, who scrambled to free himself from both her and the hay.

"Unhand me, you wench!" the assassin growled, paying no mind to being gentle against her. She has been nothing more than a nuisance, and a damn annoying one at that. "No! Not until you tell me who you are and give me a good reason for your being here in my city!" Mary grunted, holding onto him.

"Damn it," he stopped, going quiet as he heard soldiers shout and search the area surrounding the hay wagon. Mary was quiet too, but she didn't relax her grip. "Bah! Search somewhere else! He's gone!" they heard one shout. The assassin gave a sigh, but Mary tightened her grip, "_Now_, tell me your business here. It could mean either no one knows you're here in Acre, or _everyone_ knows."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I already know that I can't trust you," he said.

"You don't know that," Mary said, "I can be quite trustworthy."

"You mock me."

"No."

"Fine. We'll make a deal," he growled, "I tell you something, you tell me something."

"I'm fine by those terms," Mary said.

"There is a criminal here in Acre that plans on terrorizing the people. I am here to stop him," he said.

"That is not enough. Tell me your name. Who are you affiliated with?" Mary clenched his arm.

The assassin was silent for a while before telling her his name, "Altair Ibn La-Ahad."

"...Are you... really an assassin?" her voice was softer, "Did you truly murder the good Doctor Garnier?"

"He was no doctor," he affirmed.

"You did kill him! I cannot--" Mary was quickly hushed when Altair rolled over, still on top of her, and grabbed her neck with one arm, the knife still embedded in her shoulder with the other. His face was hidden in shadow by the hood, "I've told you call I am willing without killing you. Now you tell me who you are."

Her words had been warped into choking gasps for air. Pressure put onto her neck was released only slightly to let her speak. "..My name.. is Mary... I am a Teutonic Knight... I am here... to protect this city..."

"You are a Templar then!" he growled, grip on her neck and the knife tightening.

"No!" she cried, voice pinched, in both denial and begging him to stop hurting her, "I am a Crusader! I am not a Templar damn it! I'm a Teutonic Knight!"

"How little you know. Your entire order is lead by Templars," Altair challenged her.

"Sir Robert de Sable runs the Knights Templar! I am not part of that order, assassin!" Mary argued.

"You truly do not know," Altair's voice quieted.

"Know what? What do I not know? Tell me!" Mary looked up at him as he released his grip on her and the knife in her arm. Altair only looked at her, his hidden face plastered with a mixture of pity and disgust. "He who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow," he said quietly before hopping out of the hay wagon and disappearing into the crowd.

"What...? I--Ah!" a streak of pain shot through her shoulder from the blade. She had almost forgot it was there, "Ah... I have to get this fixed... Damn it..." Climbing out of the wagon, Mary headed to the Poor district. Hopefully there was an available doctor there to help patch up her wound. She dropped herself down to the streets, choosing not to strain herself. People gave her looks of shock and worry, and a few ground soldiers helped escort her to the hospitalier fortress, where Garnier once tended to people. She was taken by a doctor, sat on a bench, armor removed, knife ripped from her shoulder followed by a terrible shriek, water flushing out the wound, and bandages wrapped around her shoulder before she was redressed.

Mary took the knife with her, blood still staining its steel, and put it in one of her pouches.

"He who increaseth knowledge... increaseth sorrow..." Mary whispered to herself as she left the poor district, "What did he... mean by that...?"

Mary pondered this, but found no backing behind it. It was a direct statement, yet... what did it mean? What did it pertain to? It was over something she clearly lacked knowledge of, as openly addressed by the assassin. Altair. Altair was his name. Strange name it was. He had such intense eyes...

Mary shook her head. So many things raced through her head. What did it matter of the Knights Templar? They were just a knight faction, like the Teutonic order, were they not? A faction of knights that still all worked under the same flag, the same King? He who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. Perhaps such things were things that Mary was not supposed to know. But such bits and pieces given to her by the assassin troubled her.

Returning to the Middle District, she was approached by Conrad. The man hopped himself down from a nearby roof to greet her, and questioned her not taking flight. "I had a run-in," Mary explained briefly, "I'm taking off the night. If you could let Meister Sibrand know what happened, I would be most grateful."

"Alright," Conrad nodded, before looking around and whispering to her, "Was it the assassin?"

Mary looked at him silently for a moment, before replying, "No."

Conrad was quite disappointed, always in need of some kind of action. Even the knowledge that his superior and closest friend had a run-in with the formidable assassin and _survived_ was one hell of an exciting story! But alas, Mary was off to rest. She had Conrad report that she was stabbed by a bandit.

The rest of the night, resting in her quarters tucked away in the barracks, Mary continued to ponder her confrontation with the assassin. She was frustrated, tossing about--though still wary of her shoulder--in her bed, unable to concentrate on any one piece to the puzzle without mindlessly going back to the man's eyes, staring at her. It wasn't a look she wanted to remember, but she couldn't escape the intensity. For a split second, she felt paranoid. Frightened for her life. She had seen the assassin's face and now knows his name. Would he come for her? She wouldn't doubt it, or blame him if he did, despite the silly deal-making earlier. In fact, after thinking about it, she'd be surprised if he didn't come for her.

She was surprised he spared her at all.

Save for a deep wound in her shoulder, but that was to be expected.

The next morning was bright and Mary was early. The fresh morning air and the quiet had her relaxed and happy. Despite her contentedness, there was something off in the air. Richard was to leave for Arsuf at high noon later that day with the rest of his battalion. There was no more sighting of the assassin after Mary had met him the day before. Mary couldn't keep him from her thoughts though, despite the relaxing effect the morning had on her.

Nothing truly happened throughout the day, but the feeling of tension in the air was rising and it had Mary on edge. Why, however, was unbeknownst to her.

It was approaching high noon, and Mary only caught a glimpse of His Majesty the Good King Richard the Lionheart ride through Acre with his men on their well-dressed and handsome clydesdales, straight for the citadel of Arsuf. She had wanted to see him leave officially, but catching just a passing glimpse of him was enough for her.

It was perhaps an hour after the King left for Arsuf that the alarm bells rang all throughout Acre, just as they did before when Garnier was felled.

"No!" Mary forced out in a painful whisper as she turned and headed towards the Rich District. Reaching the barracks, Mary watched as a man in white lowered himself down the wall, soldiers following him from above. She squinted her eyes, getting out her bow. She recognized him.

"Altair... You didn't..." she whispered as she watched him drop down.

Her shoulder was still sore from the day before, and raising her bow was quite a challenge to try and stop him. Arrows flew, but were way off their mark, something she was particularly ashamed of, but over that she felt not as guilty as for firing at him in the first place. Those eyes were unforgiving, even as they were shrouded in darkness and blurred when the man sprinted past her, knocking her over with a well-placed shove. Soldiers ran after him past her, two elites stopping to help her up.

"I couldn't catch him... Forgive me," she said softly.

"It's alright," one of them said, "Go rest. We know of your altercation the other day with those vandals."

"Alright... And William?" she looked at them as they started off after the other soldiers. One of them stopped and turned to her, his grim expression hidden by his helmet. He sighed and stated simply, "Dead."

Mary watched them as they sprinted after the others and the assassin. She felt sick to her stomach. Turning, she left for the barracks, retreating into her quarters and removing her armor and undergarments. She slipped on a gown and crawled onto her cot, leaning back against the stone wall as she tried to think over what the assassin had said the afternoon prior.

'There is a criminal here in Acre that plans on terrorizing the people. I am here to stop him.'

"What did he mean...? William... Did he mean Sir William? William is not a criminal... and he wasn't planning on terrorizing the people... Why...? I don't understand... Why can't I understand...?" she whispered to himself.

The only reply she got was the image of those two eyes staring at her.


	6. Between Two Evils

Life in Acre had since the assassination of William been rather tumultuous. Meister Sibrand would never let Mary hear the end of it and his growing paranoia was wearing on her nerves, as well as those of the other soldiers and archers under the Teutonic flag. He put her and her archers on double shifts, watching out for the assassin, who had disappeared in the weeks following William's death. Reports of sightings of him had flown in via word of mouth from Demascus and Jerusalem, and it had Mary wondering just what the hell was going on all around her. Thinking about it made her feel helpless, like everyone was in the know except for her. There were many times where she wanted to speak to Sibrand in person about this whole Templar business. What did it matter? They were equal factions under the king, weren't they...? It wasn't like it mattered to Mary, only that the Teutonic Knights were under Meister Sibrand, the Hospitalier Knights were under Garnier, and the Knights Templar were under Robert de Sable, three top dogs under one ruler.

That's all it was... right? Right...?

Mary sighed as she walked through the barracks, dressed up in her garb with bow and quiver to her back and sword to her belt. There was a need to look into this further, but how would she inquire? 'Meister Sibrand, excuse me for my intrusion, but I heard from a somewhat reliable source that you were under the Knight's Templar, but apparently the Templars is a much larger faction than I am lead to believe. Would you like to elaborate on that?'

Saying such a thing to the Meister would no doubt have something... bad happen to her. Or maybe he would explain to her what was really going on that she seemed to be so pitifully behind on. It was a decision she needed to make. It was a decision that would either enlighten her or kill her. Rather than going to her post outside the fortress, Mary went straight to Sibrand's quarters under the town. She gave a small knock on the door and was greeted by an aggressive German swear.

"Meister, it's Mary. Can I talk to you for a moment?" she said through the door.

There was a pause, followed by more muffled German muttering before he told her to come in, his accent thick in his voice, "Ja, what is it."

Stepping inside, Mary was cautious, closing the door ever so gently as she gave Sibrand a once over. He was standing, in his uniform, helmet sitting on a table that served as a desk. He had his back to her, hands clasped behind him. "What is it, Mary," he said, voice holding a steely edge to it.

"Meister..." she said softly, "...I've come to you to speak of late Sir William and good doctor Garnier..."

Sibrand turned quickly towards her, eyes icy and hard with his arms going out. She froze, a stray strand of her brown hair lingering down the middle of her face. His look softened as he looked her over and came closer, expression changing, almost at the sight of her. His arms rose, as if to welcome her into an embrace, though such a thing was never met as his palms lightly clasped with each other and an assuring chuckle escaped his throat. His German accent was light, but the lightest purr in his r's, w's and v's were still so keen to Mary's ears.

"My Mary, worry not of such things... The assassin is trying to scare us. But what is he but just one man out to terrorize the good of the people?" he said, one hand moving to push the strand of hair from her face.

"He is a fool and coward," Mary said, "But why Garnier and William? What could the assassin possibly accomplish by taking out our greatest men?" Mary had loved Garnier for the man he was, a true believer in healing and care. He had treated her plenty of times, though the brutality of such treatments were unquestionable, it was needed. William, though, her opinion of him was not as bright, but she was sure to keep that to herself.

"Fear, my love, fear is what brings the greatest people down," he said, looking at her briefly before walking-no, pacing-around his desk, "Fear, insecurity, the lack of order and control. That is what the assassin is trying to accomplish."

"He cannot win, Meister," Mary shook her head, "But I fear that we will never be the same without them."

"Ja... They were our brothers indeed... But their role is... Ahh, what am I saying? You should not worry yourself with such things," he chuckled again, touching her arms.

"Meister," Mary looked up at him, concern all over her face, "The assassin couldn't have just killed them because they were crusaders... There has to be something more than that... Are you at liberty to enlighten me?"

Sibrand's somewhat cheerful demeanor diminished quickly, and Mary feared a sudden out-lash, but the man was quiet. He glanced around himself before drawing her closer to him, staring at her face with a hardness that frightened her. He cupped her face, a grab rather than a caress, holding her still, "We are a group, Mary... A brotherhood; we are the ones that will change the world for the better. Everything you were taught is not black and white, but gray. One thing you must understand is that we seek to unite; we seek peace."

Mary nodded, confusion in her eyes, lips slightly parted, "As we all do..."

"Yes... And the assassins... they wish to destroy it all..." Sibrand finished, his voice quieting into a whisper. Mary only stared at him, unsure of what to think about what he had said. His grip on the sides of her face tightened and he drew her in. In a panic, she pulled fast away from him, "Meister!"

He let her go, surprised at her jerk. He stared at her, eyes wide, almost as shocked as she was, though her face quickly creased to a glare. "My apologies... Get back to your station, Mary," he said, turning away from her and planting his hands on his desk. Mary left him without a word, shutting the door behind her and wrapping her arms around her middle just under her bosom. She didn't like what he had to say at all. She didn't like his rather abrupt advance at the end either. She hurried herself out of the barracks. With a shudder, she took to the rooftops, headed towards Conrad's station. It wasn't her station, but she needed to be near him, to complain at if nothing else about Sibrand's behavior.

Conrad was sitting on the roof, foot tapping a loose shingle. He looked up at Mary as she came towards him, her boots clacking against the plates. "Hey," he waved to her, standing up.

"Sitting around on the job, are we?" she looked at him, folding her arms across her chest.

He grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, ma'am."

She smiled, eyes half-lidded and going down to the streets briefly.

"How did it go...? Did Sibrand give you any answers?" he stretched his arms before shaking off his hood.

"Not really, no... Just... the ramblings of a man going mad..." she sighed, her smile diminishing.

"Really... what did he say?" Conrad's face creased with confusion, turning his head towards her.

"...Nothing I wanted to hear... Nothing that made sense, really... 'We are bringing peace and the assassin's are trying to stop us!'" she shook her head, "He didn't really say anything... The assassin is killing our leaders and I don't know why... Sibrand said it was to shake the foundation of our cause, then started talking of something else. He was very vague about it... I don't know what to make of what he said... It's disturbing. He spoke of peace... but... There's something more. If they wanted peace, why would the assassin's dream of otherwise?"

"Because they're just a bunch of warlocks," Conrad shook his head, looking around briefly, "Muslims. Are they not with the seracens?"

Mary glared at him, "Don't talk like that... But I don't know... One might think, but the assassin's only seem to infiltrate the cities. Never once have I heard of them with the seracens out on the battlefield."

"Hmph... battlefield," Conrad snorted, "It sounds like a reprieve to me, assassins or no. I bet it beats sitting up here all day."

Mary rolled her eyes, "You and your dreams of a glorious death on the battlefield."

"Better than rotting up on a rooftop!" he grinned at her.

Mary laughed softly, staring at him before shaking his head, "Good Lord..."

Mary stayed with Conrad for a majority of the morning, but left him to do patrols. It was still pretty calm throughout Acre, but more guards and soldiers were posted by Sibrand's order. His words still troubled her, but Mary kept it to the back of her mind the best she could. It often returned to her as she overheard other soldiers, both on the rooftops and down below, talk about Sibrand and his ever growing paranoia. Every man in white, soldier and scholar alike, were all assassins just the same to him. There were more reports by word of mouth nearly every hour of a man being slain for being a martyr to the Assassin order, every case by all accounts being those of misunderstandings and lack of judgment on Sibrand's part. Mary could only pray that the man would wise up, especially when his people needed him to be strong the most. But even as Mary watched from a nearby rooftop, she could see Sibrand fall apart at the seams as he berated and accused his knights of plot and treachery. It was heartbreaking, despite his rather unbecoming demeanor from the morning earlier. Mary's Master was slowly dying on the inside, and something had to give. Either the Assassin, or Sibrand. Mary wasn't sure how long she could stand for Sibrand's reign of terror before it got out of control and she'd have to try and put and end to it. Turning against him was the only way she could properly describe it, which would only fuel his flame more.

Mary had to force herself to the Poor district, where the main entryway of Acre was settled. She stood outside with the hospitalier knights, making use of the wooden fences as target practice, if not to show off to the soldiers she was with, who were mainly swordsmen. She showed her pride with a sort of humor, taking sexist comments as they came, jokes or not. She allowed a soldier to try out her bow, only to have the arrow either miss the fence or not get far enough to graze it.

Mary's fun was halted though when she spotted a man ride in on a horse and speak with a group of praying scholars outside the gate. They briefly spoke of a meeting before headed towards the gate and squeezed past the guards. Mary had since then hidden herself from sight before following the group of scholars in. Within the crowd, the addition to the group of four dispersed from them and headed South. Her heart raced as she pushed her way through, gently of course, never taking her eyes off that white hood. The man disappeared into the alleyway and she followed, only to find herself being ambushed.

A gloved hand-fingerless-wrapped around her mouth and pulled her in, another holding a knife to her throat.

"This will be the last time you harass me, crusader," a familiar voice growled in her ear.

Feeling the cold steel bite at her neck, Mary panicked, grabbing the man's hand and jerking it away from her. She shook her body, struggling to throw him off. Warm blood strolled down her neck to her uniform, but Mary didn't notice the biting pain as she turned to face the assassin, who glared at her with annoyance in his eyes.

"Why are you here," Mary hissed at him, anger in her voice. She had been enamored by those eyes but her anger was just too great. The pain this man was causing her was unforgivable.

"Tell me now, or I'll have the entire city after you," she held a newly arrowed bow to his face, the tip of the arrow pointing at his nose. Altair huffed, "I do not need to disclose such information to a lowly soldier."

"I spoke to my authorities. And he speaks only of peace. Peace that you seek to destroy, assassin," she growled at him.

Altair wavered but only slightly, "I know of this peace."

"Then why? Are you truly out for war?"

"No. It is peace I seek. The peace your Masters speak of is a falsity. Deception. That's all it is. This peace they want to attain, it isn't real. It is all through force. Enslavement."

"You're after Meister Sibrand, aren't you," Mary lowered her bow, staring at him.

"Yes."

Mary lowered her gaze to the ground, "...Then there is not much time left..."

Altair tensed to her words, bracing for some kind of attack. Mary didn't move. She only looked at him. "I cannot fight against you. There is no point. Assas-Altair. I have spoken to Sibrand and he relayed to me disturbing words. Words of deception I fear... after what I've seen him do today and what I hear from you... My faith in my superiors is dwindling. I am not sure what to do..." She went quiet for a moment before looking back up at him, "What would an assassin do?"

Altair was silent for a moment, shocked to hear what she said. He looked at her with those eyes, once fiery with anger but now cool with calm contemplation, even through the darkness cast by that white hood. "...See through the deception. You recognize that nothing is true... and everything is permitted." Mary looked up at him, "See through the deception... Are you saying that... I need to accept... that everything I have been taught may be... wrong...?"

Altair gave her the slightest hint of a nod.

Mary looked away from him, staring down at the cobblestone road beneath her, "...I have to talk to Sibrand... I have to get the truth from him..." She looked back up at Altair, who still stood there, looking at her, "I hope you're wrong, Assassin..."

With that, she turned away from him, scooting out from the alleyway just as he took to the thresholds jutting from the walls to reach the rooftops.

Mary was back in the barracks later that afternoon, walking to her chamber. She had to ready herself before she confronted Sibrand in his office. She knew she was either going to be removed from the crusaders, severely punished physically or even killed for what she was about to do. But it didn't matter. Something was going on and she needed to know about it. Going into her chamber, Mary sat on her cot, idly removing her doublet and setting it down gently on the floor, along with her bow and quiver of arrows. She took a deep breath, hunched over with her eyes closed and nose pointing to the ground, struggling to prepare herself for her confrontation.

She wasn't prepared for the door to burst open, and to have Sibrand himself come inside. She jumped, up in a standing position from the cot and facing him, "Meister? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," he said, though rather seeming apologetic, he was tense, walking stiff-legged towards her and his jaw tight.

"Meister..." Mary relaxed a little, but was still on edge. The man looked like he was ready to attack something. "There's something I need to talk to you about. I need the truth. There's a reason for the slayings here in Acre. It's not the war. It's not the Holy Land. There's a reason bigger than what you are giving me. I need to know what it is."

Sibrand looked at her incredulously, "You call me a liar? Do you not see the chaos that their deaths have been causing?" He moved towards her with an abruptness that forced Mary to take a step back.

"Now that you mention it, no I do not. The people have been put through the shock of their leaders' assassinations... But there is no more misery than there was before. I've made my rounds. I've observed the people. The only person who seems to be suffering is you, Meister."

"You are foolish for thinking so. The assassin comes! Garnier and William were fools. They were too cocky. He struck them down but I won't be so easily taken!"

"There is something then. And you're part of it! Tell me why the assassin wishes to take your lives!"

"The Brotherhood, you wench! It's all around you! The assassin think our plan a crime against mankind but no, our cause is just. Do you not see the suffering all around you? The bleak lives of these people all brought upon them by the rules of their false God!"

Mary was taken aback by his words, "...What are you saying?"

Sibrand grabbed her by the neck, forcing her against the wall, "I say exactly what I say. We mean to relieve these people from the blindness that is their faith. The assassins are not the only people who are enlightened! And what is this, Mary? You questioning your authority? You, my most trusted subordinate, turning against me just like all the others! You're an assassin aren't you!"

He started yelling at her, shaking her before shoving her onto the cot.

"I plead no allegiance to anyone but King Richard! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!" Mary shouted back from her cot, more angry than frightened. Her hands went to her neck to nurse the pressure that had been applied by Sibrand's furious grip.

"Don't play the fool with me Mary. I know you've been seeing the Assassin in secret. You've been conspiring with him! Consort! Whore!" Sibrand growled at her, pointing an accusing finger at her face. From then on the furious blows came, Sibrand striking Mary across her face and pushing her against the wall, pinning her to prevent her escape. Sibrand didn't stop even to her cries of pain and pleads for him to halt his assault, but he ceased his onslaught when he saw blood trail down from her forehead and nose to her lips. He stopped and looked at her. Her right eye and cheek were reddening and starting to swell, as well as marks all around her face, accompanied by cuts and scratches from Sibrand's gauntlets. He backed away from her, growling at her before he left, "We will retrieve the Apple... Nothing can stop us..."

With that, he left her, bleeding and frightened on her cot. She got up as soon as she was gone and locked the door, barricading it with the chair placed at her small, personal desk. She backed away from the door, getting back onto her cot and curling up, tears mixing with blood as it streamed down her face. Her master was lost to her. It was more of the realization that he was already gone before the assassin's blade had taken him that drove her to her tears. If Sibrand was driven enough to assault his closest subordinate, then he was surely losing his touch on reality.


	7. Cloudy Skies

The new morning in Acre was calm and quiet, the sun's normal warm glow now pasting over the land a sickly pale yellow. The rooftops were nearly empty, most, if not all guards of the Teutonic Order clustered around the docks. Mary kept to herself on a lonely rooftop, slouched back with her head and shoulders resting back against a couple wooden post. She had her bow and quiver of arrows resting on a close-by flat platform, her sword resting with it. She was tired, her body throbbing from the night before. Her right eye was black and shut, cheek swollen and bruised a dark purple. Her bottom lip was busted, and scabbing cuts and cashes covered the rest of her face. Her neck was bruised as well, including parts of her shoulders and arms. With one leg brought up and knee bent, her boot resting against the shingles of the rooftop, her other leg rested flat along its side, boot turned slightly to keep from slipping. She had her eyes closed, wanting to forget the world she lived in.

The sound of fluttering feathers filled her ears and disturbed her from her rest and she looked up, seeing the man in white looking down at her. She couldn't see his face, but she knew who it was. She said nothing, only looked at him as he did her. He remained silent, but approached her and knelt down beside her, studying her face. Mary only shut her eyes tight, as if knowing what he was doing. There was a silent communication between them; Altair only needed the condition of her face and neck accompanied with the painful look on her face to get the answers he needed. He stayed there, looking at her, eyes unblinking yet calm like the hunter he was. She looked at him again staring at his cold eyes. His intense, electrifying eyes.

"...He'll be on his ship... There are soldiers everywhere... Use the scholars... Use the boats..." she said, her speech somewhat impeded by her busted lip, "...You were right, Assassin... He needs to die..."

Altair's eyes softened a little. He stood and paused, "Take care of yourself, Mary." With that, he was off, sprinting across rooftops towards the docks. Mary could only take in his words with a grain of salt. As hard as she might, she struggled to fight the tears that came soon after his departure, eyes staring up at the sickly sky with tears burning under her eyelids and lips pressing hard against each other. She lowered her head, a coughing sob breaking from her throat before erupting into a trembling weep.

i"How come I don't remember that happening?"/i

i"Shut up, Desmond."/i

i"You doing alright Lauren?"/i

i"I-I think I need out..."/i

i"Okay. Easy does it."/i

Lauren took a deep breath once the screen in front of her was released and she sat up, hands going to her head. She leaned forward, face towards her bent knees. Shaun and Desmond moved away to give her space while Lucy went to her side, Rebecca still clicking away on her laptop. Lucy put her hand on Lauren's back, "You okay Lauren?" Lauren shook her head briefly.

"I feel like I'm going to vomit."

"We kept you in there for too long," Lucy sighed, "God why didn't we ask you sooner. We're so used to Desmond being in there for hours at a time."

"It's okay... I just... I think I need to walk for a bit. Or something..." Lauren didn't look up, her head starting to throb and swirl.

"Go do some sit-ups once your head clears," Rebecca said, still as cheerful as ever, "You'll be alright. Shaun'll help you."

Lauren looked up from her knees and stared off at a distant wall, blinking her eyes as the swirling in her head started to die down. Shaun went to her and helped her up from the animus, taking her into a nearby room to recover. He stood there and looked her over, talking to her and casually instructing her to stretch certain ways, and correcting her if she did it wrong.

Lucy watched them from her chair, sighing softly and lowering her head. She shook her head before putting her hands to her face. Rebecca looked at her from her laptop, "Hey, don't worry about it, Lu. She's fine!"

"I did it again," she said quietly, lowering her hands from her face. "I kept her in there too long! Just like..."

"Lucy," Desmond knelt down in front of her, "It's alright." He looked at her intensely and she looked back, lips parted.

"She's okay. Look at her, she's not going insane. You are not forcing her in there. She will not become another Subject 16. She will get used to it just like I have, if only long enough for us to see just what the hell is going on. I know what happened to you and Subject 16 was awful but you need to let it go. I'm very certain he knows you didn't want to do it to him, but you had no choice. In a way, he died so we could find the truth. You are not Vic, Lucy."

Lucy stared at him blinking her now teary eyes and smiling weakly. She nodded, taking his hands in hers, "Thank you, Desmond."

Desmond smiled, taking her into a tight hug, closing his eyes and saying quietly, "It's going to be okay."

Rebecca smiled and went back to her clicking, "You two continue your smooching, I'll just go ahead and analyze what we found."

Lucy pulled away from Desmond in a gasp, looking at Rebecca and blushing a bright red.

Rebecca only laughed, while Desmond stood there a little dumbstruck.

About twenty minutes later, Lauren and Shaun returned from the other room. "She's good as new," he said before sitting back down with his laptop. "She's free to continue or rest, it's really up to you guys, but it might be best if we continue where we left off at least until evening. Time is of the essence." Lauren nodded, scratching the back of her head and face flushing with embarrassment, "Yeah, I'm okay now... Sorry about that." Lucy looked at Lauren before walking over to her and taking her hands in her own. She looked at the other blond with a sense of urgency mixed with concern, "Don't worry. We won't keep you in there for longer than you can handle. If you need out, then let us know and you can rest. Okay?"

Lauren studied Lucy briefly before nodding, "Okay."

Quietly, she moved away from Lucy and laid herself back down on the Animus.

"Okay, heeere we go," Rebecca said. Lauren took in a deep breath as the screen clouded her eyes once more and the vision of Acre replaced the ceiling of their cabin.

The Acre sun was climbing it's way to its highest peak, slowly but surely, but the pasty color didn't leave the skies. Mary had lowered herself down from the rooftops and started a slow walk towards the docks. It had been around an hour after she saw the assassin. When she approached the entryway to the docks, she saw him gently nudge his way through a crowd of workers with their heavy crates. She stopped when she saw him and looked at him. He passed her without so much as a glance, his shoulder lightly bumping hers. Her eyes went from the water in the docs to the ground beneath her, not saying anything as he passed her. Mary shook her head slowly and headed out onto the docks, walking the pathway along the right wing of the waters. The guards stationed along the tower were gone from their posts, all having gathered on Sibrand's boat. They surrounded his body, one of the elites struggling to revive him. Lower guards were sent running into the streets from the docks to seek the culprit out.

Mary stood behind the group surrounding their fallen master, watching them with a silent air about her. She caught a glimpse of him, face quiet and peaceful, despite the remains of his neck nothing more than a bloody mess that spilled over his tunic. Her master as she knew him was lost not only to her but the entire order. Feeling a comforting hand from a French elite clasp her shoulder, Mary looked up at him briefly, his struggling facial features barely obscured by the nose and cheek guards of his helm. She gave him a brief nod before turning away from the sight and heading back into town. She went straight to the barracks, abandoning her duties until late evening. When the stars shown over Acre, she stripped from her archer garb and slipped into peasant rags, finishing off her outfit with a dark cloak. With her quiver and bow strapped to her back and her sword hidden under her cloak, Mary headed out into the now quiet streets.

She kept her head low as she walked, her footsteps light and faint against the dirt floor. She was halted in her steps just at the gates of Acre. She looked up, her face hidden by her dark hood. It was Maria, standing there in her knight garb, though no helmet hid her face. She gave Mary a sneer in greeting, "Running away?"

"I resign," Mary said, her hands hidden in her cloak, though one lightly resting on the hilt of her sword.

"You know Robert won't stand for this," Maria shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"Sir Robert will be fine with the letter I left for him. I am not his responsibility," Mary's tone didn't change.

"And poor little Conrad. You're abandoning him, you know."

"Conrad has nothing to do with this."

"You're weak, Mary. Your Master falls and all you can think about is crying in a corner," Maria snapped at her. Mary's face creased with growing anger. "Sibrand was a fool for placing his trust in a tart like you. You're nothing but a peasant who likes to play with arrows."

Mary grit her teeth, "Such bold talk coming from the fortunate favorite. But I've never seen you in combat, always hiding behind Sir Robert's cape when the going gets rough." She rose her hands up and lowered her cloak, the healing wounds on Mary's face illuminated by the light of the fractured moon. "I would suggest you watch your words, Maria. The only thing I've ever witness you do in company is whine. Unless you would like to cross swords with me then I would advise you keep your mouth shut."

Maria's face churned with anger, teeth grinding as Mary walked forward, her hard shoulder bumping into the other's. Maria didn't turn while the other left, and instead ran further into the city. Mary approached the stalls and grabbed the reigns of a black horse, pulling him out with tugs on the reigns and gentle coaxing. She hoisted herself onto the saddle and gave the stallion's sides a gentle squeeze. She rode him out onto the dirt path on a gentle walk. She had her head low, her hands resting on the reigns. "…I don't suppose you know what's going on, do you." She rose a hand and gently pat the horse's neck, "I have to find things out for myself… By myself…"


	8. Jerusalem

Mary didn't know how Acre was after she left. She stayed away from the city and remained in the kingdom, stealing away in a small abandoned house and making it her home. Her horse stood outside, munching on hay and dying grass, never minding any soldiers or pilgrims passing one way or the other. Mary slept most of the night, but woke up in the morning without rest. She wasn't going to find the answers she wanted just sitting here thinking and worrying about what was happening all around her. Acre only had one overlooking ruler to keep it alive, along with his catty subordinate. She sat at an old wooden table in front of a small window and looked outside, staring at the wall of the opposite end of the valley in which she resided. Her horse ate peacefully outside, roaming to find fresher, live grass behind the small structure. She sighed deeply, resting her elbow on the table briefly, her chin against her knuckles.

She stood. She needed to decide what to do next. She couldn't go back to Acre, the subtle fear of being branded a traitor and ordered to be killed rearing its ugly head in her afterthoughts. She went to check on her inventory, what rags she had that she could wear, and what shawls and draperies she could use to disguise herself. The neighboring cities, Damascus and Jerusalem, particularly the latter, would welcome no European stranger. She was an insult to them just for having crossed the sea in her earlier years, no matter what the circumstances. She set to work, the sun not yet quite reaching out over the horizon hidden by the valley walls, taking what rags she had and wrapping them around herself to create a makeshift dress, shoulder shawl and hood, with a smaller piece of cloth over her face. She removed the clothing and went out to her horse, removing some of its tail hair with her sword and using it to thread pieces of cloth together, using a sharpened pine she found in the back of the house.

With a twig, Mary carefully rolled up her shoulder length hair, securing it behind her head before dressing up in her new outfit, fitting the hood and mask over her head and face easily. It was a struggle to breathe, forcing her to reach a hand up nervously and pull the mask down over her nose for a few breaths before dragging it back up again. She looked out at the door, glancing to her weapons in the lone bedroom. She turned away, heading outside into the morning haze and mounting her horse. The horse gave a soft nicker as she got on and she smiled, petting its broad neck before taking the reins, "Let's go."

She started off at a slow trot, not seeing any pilgrims along the path but slowing the beast as she did. He walked at a relaxed pace, his head low just as she was somewhat slumped over, back at a gentle arch, with her hands clutching the reins and resting down between her legs on the saddle. Pilgrims and soldiers paid her no mind, and she rose her head periodically to check for signs and pointers, reading in both English and Arabic. She followed them, carefully weaving her horse through lines of pilgrims, fortresses, villages and farms. She listened to the talk of the pilgrims and the soldiers, struggling to make sense of the Arabic accents of the pilgrims coming from Jerusalem and Damascus. Words like 'assassin' and 'infidel' caught her attention and she had her horse stop to munch on some grass or drink some water just so she could eavesdrop.

The assassin had been hitting every city, taking out key figures that were once thought to make life for citizens easier, if not just interesting one day at a time. But who were they? Mary hurried her way to Jerusalem, hearing enough talk for one horse ride, weaving her horse at full throttle easily around crowds and ruins, having him leap over hurdles in smooth bounds. Reaching the hilltops overlooking the pathway down to the gates of Jerusalem, Mary stopped her horse in its tracks, allowing a stream of pilgrims to pass by before galloping down the hill and stopping at the gate. Four guards stood in a sentinel, blocking both entry and exit. She walked her horse to the feeding and watering stations, sliding off and tying the reins to one of the wooden posts, allowing it distance to eat and drink in the shade of the open stable.

With her face completely covered, Mary nervously went up to the guards standing their post, hoping to just gently slip by, but she was stopped with a quick hand to her shoulder, "Wait! I will not let you enter just yet! What business do you have here in Jerusalem?" he demanded, dark eyes peering down at her. He saw her eyes, her fair skin darkened by the shadows of her hood. Her eyes were squinting, and she could only hope he didn't recognize any European characteristics on her. But then, she didn't know what to say to him. Could she really say 'I'm here to uncover the truth behind the Templar Order' and expect him to just simply be okay with that? She highly doubted it.

"Um-I'm-I'm just visiting…" she said through her mask, trying her hardest to emulate the Arabian curl of the tongue, and failing miserably. He rose a thick brow at her, leaning in and staring at her. She took a step back, slowly leaning away just as he moved toward her. "From where do you hail?" he demanded again, "Don't lie to me, girl."

"I-I…" Mary shook her head, glancing to the side, wanting to flee.

"Come now, she is clearly lost and seeks out the wisdom that is everywhere within our dear Jerusalem," four men came up behind her. She looked back at four men dressed in white robes and white turbans, their middles divided by black strips of leather. "She seeks the wisdom and guidance of the church! That should be reason enough to allow her within the city's walls."

The guard arched a brow, his hand still lightly resting on the hilt of his sheathed scimitar. "Ah-Alright, fine," she took a step back, allowing the four scholars in. He stared at her as she remained motionless behind them. "Well? Go on!" Mary blinked and shivered, following the four inside the city. Within, the crowds were bustling, but calm. There was a gentle, protective air within the city, though the guards looked on with glaring dark eyes within their jade-plated breastplates and cuirasses. She looked at the leader of the four scholars and uttered, "Thank you."

"No problem, child. Stay safe, and God be with you," he smiled at her, his voice rich with the Arabic tongue. The four scholars went on their way, leaving Mary to look around and take in her surroundings. "Well, I'm in…" she whispered to herself as she walked further into the city, ignoring the cries of the merchants and the pleads of the beggars. She wandered the streets, taking stalling moments to think to herself by allowing items and knickknacks at merchant stands to distract her for a moment before continuing on her way.

The sheer paranoia that citizens or guards would see right through her disguise and call her out on her lineage. With her sandy brown hair, fair skin and hazel eyes, it wouldn't have been difficult to tell her apart from the other women. "This isn't working…" she whispered to herself, stealing away into a narrow alley occupied by a drunkard. "…I have to take to the rooftops… These streets are suffocating me…" Gently pushing passed the drunkards, who were normally aggressive but only paid her an eye, Mary found her way to a ledge, laddered by other footholds and cracks meandering up the side of the stone. She jumped up the wall, grabbing onto what she could, and crawled her way up to the edge of the rooftop.

When she made it, she gasped at the number of archers she saw taking vigil across the buildings. She hid herself behind smaller structure atop the roof she was on, "Christ, this will never work… If they catch me up here they'll know something's up…" she cursed quietly to herself, stealing away from cover to cover as she navigated the rooftops. She found herself running across a top and jumping, grabbing onto the edge of the rooftop she targeted and hissing, trying not to make so much noise, even as the stone scraped her arms. She hauled herself up, grunting painfully and grabbing onto a small wooden scaffolding secured to the side of a decorative construct.

"Hey! You!" she heard a call from behind. She gasped, seeing an archer hold his bow and arrow aimed at her, "Get down! Now!" Frozen with fear, Mary stood up, body tense and mind racing for a decision of what to do. She envisioned that arrow going straight through her chest, cracking her sternum with a hideous crunch, but she found herself instead wailing as she fell back, landing on her head within four walls, her back stabbed by sharp edges of whatever it was she scraped on the way down.

"_Yikes! That had to hurt!"_


	9. Malik

Mary woke up with a groan, vision blurry and head pounding with a deep throb. A man stood over her, dark skinned, dressed in black with white lining the edges of his robes. One arm was missing. He was staring right at her. At her face. Her hair let down. Her hood and mask were gone.

With a sharp, frightened gasp, Mary pulled herself away from him, holding her arm over her face as she struggled back away from him, but was stopped by a sharp, stabbing pain in her back and side. "Ngh!" she flinched, spine arching from the sudden firing of her nerves, telling her to stop moving. But no, she had to move. Quickly. Her identity was exposed! The man reached forward, grabbing her with his one arm and keeping her down with impressive agility and strength.

"Stop," he said, voice carrying a light rasp to it, "No harm will come to you… Yet."

Those words caused Mary to calm for a moment, but frenzied back up again in terror, but he was on her again, holding her down with his arm covering her mouth, "I won't hurt you until you give me a reason to. You're in safe hands until you prove to me an enemy."

Enemy… Enemy. She was no enemy.

Mary calmed down slowly, relaxing once again… against a set-up of pillows that supported her injured back. He released her slowly, watching her. "Now, tell me. What is your name?"

"…Mary," she said, eyes darting around in slow glances, "What is this?" She looked up at the fountain, spying its peculiar designs. "…Have I seen that somewhere before…?"

The man glanced back at the fountain, lips slightly parting before looking back at her. "Probably. You must have some kind of skill if you were able to find this place." Find, for lack of a better term. When he found her, she was head over heals unconscious and bleeding on the floor just outside his quarters. And now here she lay, wrapped up tight and loosely re-dressed back into her dress, though her head and face coverings were nowhere to be found.

"You are not of this land, therefore, you tread extremely dangerous waters. I will not let you leave until you tell me what you're doing here," he said, backing away from her and standing up.

Mary glared at him, shaking her head defiantly, "No. First, you tell me who you are and what this place is. I've told you my name, you know my face and my origins. Now you do the same."

The man only blinked lazily and gave a vague gesture with his head, "Alright then." She already saw his face anyway, despite how long it took due to her vision being impaired for the first couple of minutes of her awakening. "My name is Malik. And this?" He raised his arm in gesture to the walls of the structure, "Is off-limits to you. It's off-limits to everyone with the exception of my brothers and I."

Mary eyed him, his robes. The bands around his middle and the hood around his neck allowing his face to be revealed all seemed familiar to her. She looked at his eyes, squinting. They were the same.

"Are you an assassin?" she asked.

Malik refocused his gaze upon her, more alert and hard, but not by much more than it already was before. "So you know of us," he said.

"There are more of you?"

"We are a Brotherhood. I'm amused that you know of the Creed and only assumed it was one person," he stopped for a moment to think, before his expression seeped with anger, and his voice deepened into a hideous growl, "Altair."

"That's his name!" Mary jumped, wincing immediately after from the pain in her back.

"You've met him?" Malik looked at her.

"Yes! While he was in Acre."

"It doesn't surprise me you're still alive then. It's always been like Altair to be of poor judgment," Malik turned from her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary looked up at him, glaring, "I'll let you know that I left my ranks amongst the Royal army! I came… I came to find out what…" she looked away, her voice trailing off, "…What you know."

Malik stopped in his tracks, going quiet, anger melting away if only for a moment, a moment that was silent before he spoke, neglecting to turn back around to face her, "I can only interpret that in so many ways. Are you of the Templars? Or no?"

"No… No, I'm not. That's why I've come here, to Jerusalem. That assassin, he told me of this Order within my ranks. And… my Meister, Sibrand, he spoke of it too. I'm so confused. The Assassin claims peace for taking his life, and yet Meister claimed peace as well, saying that The Assassins sought to destroy all good in the world," she said, "But then… he said something about a New World… I don't understand."

Malik sighed softly and turned to her, "You don't know which side you're on."

Mary looked up at him, "I care deeply for my brothers. My men. Or… who were once my men before I left, even now I worry for their safety. But Altair told me that my Masters… Sibrand, Good Doctor Garnier and even Lord Robert wish peace only through force and control! My men were like my family, just like I would imagine your brothers are to you, but if they stand for something so evil… then I can't stay with them. I left so I could find out what's going on… What's really going on."

"I suppose I cannot dismiss you on those circumstances. But I must warn you, 'he who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow,'" Malik said, extending a hand to her.

Mary nodded slowly, reaching her arm out to him and taking his hand. He hauled her up, never minding her injuries before guiding her into the safety of his workhouse. "For now, you need to rest, and I'll tell you what you need to know about our Brotherhood, our ways, and the Templars."

"_Fast forward."_

"_Alright."_

"_Wait, Lauren. You doing alright?"_

"…_Y-yeah."_

"_Alright."_

Mary sat with her head low, eyes to the floor and arms crossed against her legs. "I never thought that things would be so steep here. Right in front of me, things were building up and I could not see it," she said with the slow shake of her head. Malik sat in front of her, legs crossed, "But now you do. And that makes a huge difference."

Mary looked up at Malik and narrowed her eyes, "Something must be done… It was painful to let my Meister go, but this cannot continue."

"It's not that simple," Malik shook his head, "You were once under their flag. It will not be easy to garner favor for you from my brothers, least of all my own Master." Mary looked at him, "But what of Altair? I've met with him a couple of times."

Malik grunted, "That dog's sense of judgment is something to be examined first. But perhaps you are right. I can take you to my Master, to Masyaf if you wish, but I cannot guarantee that there will be no trouble. If Altair is there, and he more than likely is, then perhaps he'll be the one to save your life."

Mary swallowed a forming lump in her throat, "Save my life?"

Malik nodded before standing and holding out his only hand to her, "My brothers are not the type to kill on impulse, but you are of the English, which can only rouse suspicion to your allegiance. They will not attack without just cause, but that doesn't mean that they'll be overly happy to see you."

Mary sighed and nodded, "Truly I understand…" She took his hand and stood. Malik went into the other room of the headquarters, grabbing an assistant from beyond the books and also grabbing Mary's hood and face cover. He handed them to her and she wrapped them over her head and face. "Stay close. But you may not have to try to keep up with me. I'm not as agile as I once was." Mary frowned sadly, "I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault."


End file.
